


if it isn't her

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Making Out, Simmons lusting after Bobbi, Simmons needs a friend, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two days or so after 2x05, Bobbi and Simmons get to know each other better. </p>
<p>Started as Simmons lusting after Bobbi, became Simmons needing a friend/support, too (as the last few weeks have made Simmons seem a bit isolated and all the women on this show just need to hug each other). And still canon-compliant Skoulson feels in the background because I can't even, they show up when I don't even plan it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if it isn't her

Simmons feels it on the back of her neck when Bobbi walks into the lab, before she even hears the click of heeled boots behind her. Her hands freeze on the keyboard as she feels Bobbi get closer, and all the hairs on her body stand on end, as though reaching out for contact.

Bobbi stops just behind her, close enough that Simmons thinks she can feel the taller woman’s breath rustle her hair, and Simmons can’t hold back a shiver.

“Making progress on the data on that hard drive?”

Simmons swallows and turns around, pressing her back against the high lab table. Bobbi doesn’t step back, and Simmons feels almost like she has to look straight up at her. Even though her logical brain knows that Bobbi is not _that_ close — no closer than anyone would normally be in this situation — she seems to take up so much more space than anyone Simmons is used to. She feels close, pushed up into Simmons’s personal space, and yet entirely too far away.

Her skin tingles with a desire to be touched, and she grips the lab table behind her to keep herself from closing the small distance between them. She can’t help but think herself ridiculous.

“Yes. I really must thank you for getting ahold of it. Quite good thinking on your part.”

Simmons can feel her arms shaking, and she doesn’t exactly understand her reaction to this woman.

“Thanks,” Bobbi replies, shrugging off the compliment and turning attention back to Simmons. “Your research is very impressive, you know. Bakshi will be angry not to have you on his side.”

“I wasn't doing that much. Honestly, I was trying _not_ to do that much.”

“And even playing dumb, you were smarter than everyone else there. You were much further along on theorizing the uses of the obelisk than anyone else. So it’s a good thing I got that.” Bobbi gestures at the computer.

“You were monitoring everyone’s research, too?”

“Yes. My PhD is in biochemistry, you know.”

Simmons’s heart skips a beat at that, and she lets out a startled giggle.

“You really are perfect, aren’t you?” She can’t help the way her eyes scan down Bobbi’s body, taking in the long line of her neck and then the rather impressive musculature of her arms, bared in the tank top style she seems to favor. Simmons has always been attracted to well-defined arms, and Bobbi’s are magnificent.

Bobbi smiles, somewhere between flattered and amused.

“How did you ever last so long under cover?”

“I have no idea,” Simmons answers, completely honest, and Bobbi breaks into laughter.

“Do you want to take a break?” Bobbi offers, looking a hair less composed than Simmons has seen her so far.

“That would be nice,” Simmons answers, rolling her neck in a pantomime of relaxing. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Well, Mack showed me where he keeps his beer stashed.”

“That sounds lovely.”

  
  


—

  
  


“Oh, this is my favorite,” Simmons sighs as she takes a chocolate porter from Bobbi. Their hands brush as they handle the glass, and Simmons can’t help but shudder at the feel of Bobbi’s skin against hers.

“It’s Hunter’s, too,” Bobbi shares as she takes a seat on the couch next to Simmons. Even their names in the same sentence still brings Simmons up short.

“How were _you_ married to _him_?” She frowns at Bobbi in deep contemplation and earns a laugh in response

“He can be quite charming,” she admits, pausing to take a long sip of her beer. “And earnest, sometimes.” Jemma watches as Bobbi rolls her eyes at herself, at some distant memory of the two of them. “I’m not drunk enough to get into it now,” she finally decides, which makes Simmons laugh.

“I’ll ask after a few more of these then,” Simmons answers, smiling into the edge of her glass as she takes a sip.

“Hmm,” is Bobbi’s only answer. “What about you, Jemma?” She pauses then and frowns. “Do you mind if I call you that? Everyone seems to call you Simmons —”

“No, that’s fine. I...I like Jemma.” Simmons frowns at herself, at how profoundly _uncool_ that came out, but Bobbi smiles.

“Good, I’m glad.”

Bobbi smiles at her, at this level of intimacy between them, and Simmons accidentally on purpose moves a little closer to her on the couch.

“So, were you and Agent Fitz an item?”

“Oh, no,” she answers. “It was complicated, I suppose. He told me…” Simmons trails off and takes another sip of her beer. “I think perhaps I’m not drunk enough to talk about this, either.”

That earns her a grin from Bobbi, who nods in understanding.

“Tell me something about you. What you like to do for fun.”

“I haven’t had time for what normal people call fun in a long time.”

“Luckily I’m not a normal person. I’m a SHIELD agent just like you are.”

The way Bobbi so easily equates them makes Simmons smile and lean towards her.

“I’m not very exciting, though,” Simmons tells her, grimacing at the admission and honestly a little worried that Bobbi will lose interest when she realizes it's the truth. “Compared to you, I’m quite boring.”

“You were undercover in a HYDRA facility for almost three months. That’s hardly boring.” Bobbi’s hand lands on her thigh for a moment and Simmons is afraid she might melt through the couch.

“It was an anomaly, I promise. Normally I just stay in the lab. Every time I go into the field I almost die.”

“Like when?”

Simmons launches into some stories of the team before everything went south — of their plane being hijacked, of their van being knocked into a ditch, of her near-death experience from an alien virus, of jumping on a grenade, of shooting Agent Sitwell.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar, then?”

“Yes,” Simmons admits.

“How did you manage inside HYDRA then?”

“I had a very detailed backstory about why I left SHIELD that used as much of the truth as possible. Plus, the fear of death or hypnosis was a good motivator.”

Bobbi shakes her head as she heads back to the beer stash to grab two more, which she pours into their glasses.

“Your life hardly sounds boring.”

“Not as interesting as yours, I’ll bet. Tell me more about what you’ve done.”

Bobbi launches into her own set of stories — far more interesting, to Simmons’s ears at least, than the ones she had told. Lots of undercover operations, marks and combat and occasionally the mention of laboratories. It’s endlessly thrilling.

“Did you finish your PhD before you joined SHIELD?”

“I did it simultaneously, actually. I was starting grad school at twenty one, but you were probably _done_ with your first one by eighteen, right?” Bobbi’s hand lands on her thigh again, but this time it doesn’t move.

“Seventeen,” Simmons corrects her with a blush, not mentioning that her graduation was actually the day after her seventeenth birthday.

“You’re very impressive, Jemma.”

Simmons swallows as she feels the heat of a blush creep up from her chest. Her cheeks feel hot, and she rests her pint glass against the side of her face before taking several long swallows and finishing out the glass. She sets it on the coffee table in front of them, and it is joined almost immediately by Bobbi’s.

“You’re the impressive one. I didn’t know people in operations earned degrees in science, and you so rarely meet a biochemist who’s so fit.” Simmons isn’t drunk, so she doesn’t know how to explain the way her hand gravitates to Bobbi’s bare upper arm, tracing over the muscle there. It’s strong but curved in a way that’s distinctly feminine, and the combination is terribly sexy. “You’re gorgeous, really —”

Simmons cuts herself off and blushes as Bobbi smiles at her.

“Jemma,” she whispers, cutting through acute embarrassment. “Kiss me.”

Simmons swallows, tenses for all of two seconds in fear, and then does just that.

Bobbi’s lips are surprisingly soft under hers, and one gentle press of lips becomes two and then three as their lips part together. They separate for the space of a breath, more of a gasp really, and then Bobbi’s hand cradles her cheek and guides her back into the kiss. Simmons responds instantly, chasing after Bobbi’s lips as her whole body starts to heat up almost unbearably. Their kiss tastes of dark beer and vanilla lip gloss, and the combination is dizzying.

It’s Simmons who really deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue along Bobbi’s lips as she swings a leg over her lap, leaving her with one knee pressed into each of Bobbi’s outer thighs. When Bobbi responds by sucking Jemma’s lower lip into her mouth, Simmons can’t hold back a moan. Otherwise, though, Bobbi sits back and lets herself be kissed, lets Simmons enjoy the sensation of straddling a beautiful woman and controlling their actions.

It’s a surprise, then, when Bobbi’s hands grip at the backs of her thighs before sliding up to cup her ass and then back down. Her hands are firm and commanding, like she is, and when they reach her ass again they squeeze once before slipping to the front to feel Simmons’s inner thighs.

“Bobbi,” Simmons moans into her mouth when the larger woman’s hands creep dangerously close to the apex of her thighs.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Simmons responds, almost impatient. Bobbi grins at her, knowing and more than a little amused, but Simmons doesn’t have time to be embarrassed at her eagerness before two fingers press up between her thighs, landing just at her clit over the seam of her trousers. She moans and dives back into their kiss as her hips jerk against Bobbi’s hand.

“Touch me,” Bobbi tells her. Simmons isn’t sure whether it’s an order or a request, but she doesn’t think twice before moving her hands, which have been perched on Bobbi’s shoulders for balance, down to Bobbi’s breasts. Simmons’s hands feel tiny, inadequate to the job almost, as she attempts to cup them, so she focuses on dragging her thumbs across Bobbi’s nipples, making them pebble and stand out even through a bra and shirt.

Bobbi moans and slides her hands up Simmons’s thighs to unfasten her trousers before slipping her right hand inside. Her fingers are cool as they hit the wet heat between Simmons’s legs, and the temperature difference makes them both moan even before Bobbi’s fingers circle her clit twice and then slide back and up inside of her.

Simmons groans and loses the coordination to keep kissing as she begins to shamelessly ride Bobbi’s fingers. The sensation builds quickly, every thrust and curl of Bobbi’s fingers hits exactly where Simmons needs it, until she’s whimpering almost constantly.

“Look at me, Jemma,” Bobbi whispers, and it’s only at the words that Simmons realizes that her eyes have fallen closed. Bobbi’s eyes are a clear, beautiful blue and Simmons falls helplessly into them as she comes around Bobbi’s fingers.

“Bobbi,” she pants as her eyes fall closed again as her body trembles.

It feels like ages later that she opens her eyes again, her breath still coming in shuddering gasps. Bobbi licks her lips as she watches Simmons and then guides her head down for a soft kiss. Being pressed up against Bobbi feels profoundly safe and warm, a change from how jumpy and embarrassed Simmons has felt around her since they first met.

“You want to come to my room?” Simmon’s heart skips a beat at the question and she blushes, rather inexplicably given what’s just happened. She supposes, then, that the nerves aren’t really gone. Just lessened.

“Yes,” Simmons sighs as she kisses Bobbi again.

Simmons has barely zipped up her trousers when they’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the main room.

“You think you can sleep now?” Simmons hears Skye’s voice, and then a deep male _hum_.

“I don't think it’s over.”

“Should I leave you in there, then?”

“No.”

Skye and Director Coulson come around the corner then, and stop awkwardly at the sight of Simmons and Bobbi on the couch.

“Hey,” Skye greets them, her voice strained and tired.

“Hello,” Bobbi and Simmons answer in near-perfect unison.

Director Coulson, mostly standing in shadows, just smiles at the two of them, something that Simmons swears is almost _knowing_ as he observes them sitting together.

“We’re just getting some water,” Skye informs Simmons as she takes Couslon by the elbow and leads him out of the shadowed hallway and back to the kitchen.

The sight of him in the light gives her pause. Director Coulson is flushed and pale and sweaty, as though suffering from a fever, and both Skye and Coulson are in their pajamas. Her worries about him, about _them_ and the potential of their conditions deteriorating, are calmed, though, by the feel of Bobbi’s hand on her arm.

“Are they okay?” She whispers quietly at Simmons’s ear.

“I don’t know,” she answers, honestly. “Something’s going on, but they’re keeping it quiet. Skye’s been locked in his office 24/7 since we got back.”

Bobbi nods, and Simmons thinks for a moment that she looks suspicious until Coulson and Skye walk back past them a moment later. Coulson looks a little better after a glass of water, at least like he’s walking more distinctly under his own willpower.

“Night Agent Simmons. Agent Morse,” he nods at each of them and then walks back down the hall towards his office. Skye hangs back just long enough to nod at both of them, her eyes promising Simmons that she’ll talk about this later. Or perhaps that’s just how Simmons needs to interpret it.

“You okay?” Bobbi asks, her voice all sweet concern.

“Yes,” Simmons answers. “There’s just a lot happening right now. And I don’t understand most of it.” Simmons really, really hates not understanding things.

Bobbi responds by cupping the side of her face with a gentle hand and laying a soft kiss on her lips.

“Raincheck on coming to my room?” They kiss again gently, and Simmons smiles. It feels good to be wanted, to have Bobbi want her company like that. To have _Bobbi_ want her company like that. And, really, Simmons isn’t terribly excited to be alone.

“No, I think I’d still like that,” she admits. “But maybe…”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Bobbi promises her, and Simmons smiles up at her, beyond grateful for the gentle support Bobbi has offered her in the days since they’ve gotten back to the base.

Simmons nods, and they walk back towards the sleeping quarters hand in hand.


End file.
